


Dragonfire

by jjjat3am



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Dragons, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-02
Updated: 2014-10-02
Packaged: 2018-02-19 15:02:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2392637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jjjat3am/pseuds/jjjat3am
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The one where Sam is a dragon, Steve is the tribute and Bucky is a knight, and happy endings abound.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dragonfire

**Author's Note:**

> The fairy tale AU no one asked for, but I still wrote, because it was fun imagining telling it to my kids.
> 
> Written for catchingspace on tumblr

Once upon a time, in a land far far away, there lived a dragon. The dragon’s name was Sam and he was a good and honorable dragon. He spent a big part of his long dragon life flying about from land to land, a dark shape amidst the clouds that made people squint and chickens cluck with worry. He’d once had a companion he loved above else and a home that was safe, but war came to his home and he couldn’t defend it, nr his fellow dragon and after they perished, he left, to lick his wounds in the endless sky.

 

It came to it that, after a few decades, he tired of drifting and started actively looking for a place to stay. He found a cave in a mountain, high above a sprawling countryside and settled in its dark depths to rest.

 

Sam cleaned out his caves thoroughly and filled them with all sorts of splendor, gathered from all the corners of the world. For such is the way of dragons; they can rarely resist the lure of gold and once it’s in their possession, they know how to hide it well.

 

It was not long that the villagers noticed the massive being flying above them and they sent tribute to Sam, seeking his favor. They were afraid, and perhaps rightfully so, as there were many dragons out in the world and not all as benevolent as Sam.

 

But as we’d said, Sam was a good and honorable dragon and he accepted the tribute with grace in exchange for the safety of the village, as such things were rightfully done. After the villagers had gone, Sam looked upon the coins and the rich meats and oats with satisfaction, for dragons enjoy luxury and admiration and such respect pleases them.

 

It was a few days later that he discovered that he’d have benefited from reading the terms of the contract more closely, as the villagers brought their second tribute – a young red-headed girl, given to the dragon for his continued favor. Now, Sam was at a loss, for he was not the kind of dragon that enjoys the flesh of humans, but neither did he want to appear undragonly in the face of his new subjects.

 

He directed the girl into one of the splendidly decorated rooms, before changing into his humanoid form and approaching her under the guise of a servant to thoroughly question her.

 

Her name was Natasha and she was sharp-eyed and clever, and it soon became apparent to him that the villagers had not been entirely truthful with him. Natasha had been chosen as a sacrifice, because an influential villager had accused her of witchcraft and found her guilty.  But the villagers balked at punishing her for her transgressions (imagined as they were) in fear of being cursed, so they’d sent her to the dragon, hoping he’d take care of their dirty work for them. However, dragons see more clearly than most and her heart, he saw, was untainted by darkness or hatred.

 

Her story infuriated him, but he was not a dragon prone to letting rage cloud his judgment, so he mentioned nothing of Natasha to the villagers at their next tribute and they left the mountain, content that their deception hadn’t been noticed.

 

As for Natasha, Sam kept her with him and threated her with utmost care and luxury, for he enjoyed their conversations and her company. She flourished under his care, learning from the scrolls in the library and from the stories he told. She grew proficient in hand to hand combat and knife work, or what Sam knew of it and could teach her. When he couldn’t, she taught herself.

 

Sam kept her by his side for a year and a day, no more, and then swore her to secrecy, before showing her his true majestic form and making her an offer. She would be allowed one wish and if it was in the dragon’s capacity (and many things are in a dragon’s capacity) he would grant it for her.

 

Natasha gazed upon him without fear, but instead with awe and love, and asked for a small collection of poison tipped daggers, intricately carved and wickedly sharp. The dragon, having anticipated such a wish, presented her with the daggers and a shadowed cloak to keep her warm and hidden from harmful eyes, before sending her on her way with his blessing.

 

She left the mountain in the night and he followed her lithe figure through the magic looking glass in the great hall, until she disappeared from its range. Eventually, rumors reached him of a red-headed master assassin, defending the innocent and raining punishment on those who seek to harm, doing so under the emblem of a dragon and a spider, entwined.

 

He’d never been prouder.

 

The next tribute was a boy named Clint, a runaway from a travelling circus, who eyed the collection of elaborate crossbows with a reverent eye. Then came Bruce, who consumed the inner workings of Sam’s library with an intensity that bellied his calm nature and next was Sharon, with a perchance for swordwork and a ringing laugh. Then came Jane, who asked to fly close to the stars and Tony, who constructed armor in a dragon’s size just for the joy of creating.

 

The tributes came and went, his companions for a short while, and he found joy in them, but in the end, they could never be a replacement for the companionship he still secretly craved and once lost.

 

Then one day, the villagers brought an early tribute to the mouth of his lair. It was a sickly young man, feverish and coughing and they threw him roughly on the floor of the cave, where he shook and shivered. The dragon gazed upon him and was shaken to his core.

 

Dragons See things that humans do not, for they are gifted with ancient magics and the experience of thousand sunsets, and what Sam saw in this sickly young man was more precious than any jewel he’d ever gazed upon or coin he possessed, for a heart so good and true is hard to find, and it is something all dragons are drawn to, no matter their state.

 

Seeing such a precious being treated so roughly, abruptly filled him with a great anger and he burst out if the cave in all his glory to hover above the hapless young man. The two villagers were dealt with immediately, for a dragon in a fury knows little mercy and should never be trifled with. The others froze in mute horror, awaiting the dragon’s judgment. Sam opened his mouth and amongst bright sparks from the fire he held within him, there came a voice that echoed off the mountain, beautiful, as it was terrible.

 

“You come here every year and give me your rejected children, your guiltless criminals, to do with as I please, because you cannot see the good in them and the scum in yourself, and I’ve watched you silently for years as you grow bolder and bolder, only enduring such disrespect, because you never harmed my tributes with your filthy hands. No more!”

 

He roared and the sound shook them to the core of their being, crushed their dark and ignorant hearts in a vice. They ran off the mountain and back to their villages, where they cried for many days and nights until their hearts bleed the darkness out and they found mercy in themselves.

 

The dragon gazed after the fleeing villagers and his fury slowly left him to be replaced by worry, for he could feel the fever from the young man seeping through his scales – no small feat when a dragon is made to withstand heat!

 

He looked down and his sharp eyes met the blue eyes of the man. There was awe in them, and some fear, but underneath them, a sharp will to live and that, above all else, made the dragon hasten to change forms and bear the man into his personal chambers.

 

The man tossed in his fever for nine days and nights, and on the 10th day he opened his eyes to smile gratefully at the humanoid dragon watching him with worry. If it weren’t for the dragon’s care, he’d have entered death’s embrace, most definitely.

 

The man’s name was Steve and he was an orphan. His best friend Bucky had left for war a few years prior, leaving him struggling to make ends meet in his failing health. The villagers had condemned him to death after he’d stood up to a rich merchant’s son for taking advantage of one of the village girls without her consent. Because the dragon tribute needed to be chosen, it seemed like the most convenient way to dispose of him, especially since his illness only worsened by the prison and the rough treatment. He’d not been treated kindly in many moons and waking up to a smile and worry was a revelation.

 

The man treating him was beautiful, with dark skin and kind eyes, and a smile that seemed warmer than the sun. He reached out to touch him, half-convinced that he was a mirage concocted by his fever-addled mind, and encountered warm, soft skin. The man laughed instead of flinching away and introduced himself as Sam. Steve was half in love already.

 

His feelings only grew as the days passed and Sam never strayed from his side, helping him recover. The spoke often, of Steve’s childhood and life, of the places Sam had seen, alternating between sweet intimacy and roaring laughter that made Steve wheeze and Sam scramble to cover up stray puffs of smoke.

 

Steve spoke of Bucky with an inexplicable fondness that Sam couldn’t help but share, as the vivid picture of a young man, both a guardian and an equal, rose in his mind. Steve spoke often of finding him, about how he’d promised to return and Sam vowed to do what he could to help. Still, the very thought of Steve leaving, filled him with a loneliness he hadn’t felt in decades, for during their conversations he’d fallen in love with the young man, his bright smiles and brighter soul. It seemed to him as if Steve’s hair was spun from pure gold, his eyes bright sapphires and his pale torso made from alabaster (dragons have a fondness for comparisons to riches of all sorts – a professional affliction if you will), and he grew be altogether more precious to Sam than even his rarest jewels.

 

He knew that his affections were returned – such things can never be hidden from keen dragon eyes – but he hesitated regardless, for he’d never been entirely truthful with Steve and had always stood before him in his human form, never in his full size and scale. The untruth stung him, for lying to a man as honorable as Steve is a great injustice and unbefitting of a dragon of his age and stature. It was made worse by the fact that Steve never asked of the dragon or the sealed rooms he could not enter, had never questioned how Sam came to be in employ in the dragon caves and instead trusted him without hesitation. Still, something held him back from admitting the truth. Fear of disgust perhaps; of Steve’s adoration finding its counterpart in hate and rejection. Whatever it was, it kept him silent until a year and a day had passed, and the time came to send Steve away.

 

That evening he called Steve into the great hall, sealed to hide the greatest of riches and vast enough to comfortably hold Sam’s full form.

 

Steve was not swayed by the jewels and gold carelessly littering the floor about them, instead calling out in worry at Sam’s somber face, usually painted with a smile. ‘Had something happened,’ he asked, ‘was Sam hurt?’

 

Sam took a moment to watch him openly, noting the changes that had come about his body with care and an abundance of nourishment and warmth; the rounded face, pale still, but healthy, the skin laid smoothly over his ribs and the barest hint of a stutter on his breath where there had been heavy wheezing. He looked beautiful; the most precious of treasures, one that Sam could never bring himself to possess.

 

One moment Sam’s familiar form was standing on the piles of gold, the next, a dark-scaled dragon, majestic and proud.

 

Sam forced himself to keep his eyes on Steve’s still, anticipating revulsion to flash through them like poison, fear appearing in place of love; had steeled himself for it the best he could, but then…

 

Nothing happened. Steve smiled just as freely, his face a picture of awe and adoration. He stepped forward to brush one hand against the scales under Sam’s neck and Sam let him, even if that was one of the most vulnerable places on his body.

 

They stayed like that for a long time before Sam managed to ask after Steve’s wish. His powerful throat could make even the most simple of requests sound regal, but now it shook and he hoped Steve wouldn’t notice.

 

He’d known Steve’s wish for weeks, had prepared everything he could to help him on the quest to find Bucky, but he wasn’t prepared for what Steve actually asked for, had never even dreamed of it happening.

 

“I want to stay with you, here. Forever, or for as long as I live.”

 

Steve’s voice was strong and there was no fear in his heart. Sam couldn’t deny him. He transformed into his human form to kiss and to hold him properly for the first time, carelessly wiping his tears that turned to pearls before they hit the ground.

 

Steve stayed and the dragon had never been happier.

 

For Steve’s present, Sam ripped out one of his scales, smooth and dark as midnight and fastened it onto a necklace for Steve to wear around his neck, thus imbuing him with Sam’s magic that bleed into his body and transformed it into something stronger, something that would survive the many years a dragon lived. Steve grew taller, more muscular and his movements gained a quiet assurance that better reflected his inner strength.

 

But all was not well in the dragon’s land. From the village there was no more sacrifice, as the hatred and fear grew, and the dragon did not ask for any, perhaps too busy with his infatuation with Steve to spare thought for any other human. Perhaps this was to be his biggest mistake; for he knew the villagers were greedy people who in fact enjoyed sowing strife and discord, and their dark souls would not rest, until the dragon was no more

 

One fine day, a young adventurer came to the village, taking a room at the inn.  He wore a dark cloak, well-made, yet showing signs of journeys made, but when he took it off, the inn patrons gaped openly at the splendidly made iron gauntlet around his left arm.

 

The man introduced himself as Bucky Barnes, but refused any mention of his reputation, through it was considerable. He had been a great soldier of the Queen of the Northern lands. The Winter Soldier, they called him and even the villagers had heard tell of his battle prowess and the strength of his gauntlet, believed to be forged by the dwarves of the Great Ice Caves, famed blacksmiths.

 

The soldier refused the food and the wine offered to him and batted not an eyelid at the offers of gold for services big or small. He asked for one thing and one thing only; the whereabouts of his childhood friend Steve.

 

It was not long till the villagers realized that the person this famed soldier was searching for was indeed the man they had condemned to death by dragonfire a few years prior and they quickly called for the head of the village, a weasely man, recognized for his schemes and ruthlessness.

 

Listening to the soldier’s honest words, the scheming man soon had the inklings of an idea so cruel and unjust, that only the blackest of hearts could produce. He told the soldier of the village’s imagined plight, speaking of the dragon’s cruelty and greed at length, but the worst was yet to come.

 

He spoke, voice falsely mournful, of Steve’s doom at the claws of the dragon, gloating internally as Bucky’s face grew ashen, yet determined. The villagers listened in delight as Bucky vowed revenge on the evil dragon for the death of his best friend; their black hearts alight at the sight of the proud warrior’s heartbreak.

 

The next morning dawned bright and clear, and the whole village gathered to see him off. The soldier’s armor was polished and perfect, his great warhorse brushed and pawing at the ground impatiently, but the man himself was dark and drawn into himself, aged overnight. The village head smiled covertly at the sight, for he knew that his plan was coming to fruition.

 

Bucky leapt on his horse and rode out of the village like a man possessed, trailing great clouds of dust on the untrodden mountain paths. There was desperation in his movement and a certain disregard for danger, which is perhaps why he did not catch it coming his way.

 

He’d had the misfortune of  choosing a path through the sparse forest he’d known well as a child, but that had recently fallen into the hands of a bandit gang, who were not about to let an adventurer, even a famous one like the Winter Soldier, pass through their territory unscathed.

 

They attacked him in great numbers and he fought valiantly as only a man forged in battle can. But the enemies were many and he was tired, worn from anger and sadness. All it took was a moment of inattention and the bandit leader’s axe pierced his chest from behind.

 

Bucky dropped to his knees and the bandit king raised his axe, weathered face pulled back in a savage grimace, ready for the final blow.

 

It never came.

 

For in that moment the sky above them darkened and the bandits feel to their knees, wailing, as all the trees in the clearing, ignited in showers of deadly sparks. The dragon had arrived and the bandits leapt onto their feet, leaving the injured and dying behind.

 

It was of course, Sam and Steve arriving to Bucky’s rescue. Steve had caught the glimpse of Bucky’s face in a looking glass situated in the grand hall, and he’d read the anger and the pain in his features, and he’d yelled his name in shock and fear. The pain filled shout caught Sam’s attention and he immediately recognized the danger Bucky was in, and so transformed into his dragon form while Steve grabbed his shield, leaping onto Sam’s back.

 

They were almost too late, for the wound in Bucky’s chest was deep and the dust from the path strained red with his blood. He lay in fever for nine days, during which Steve hardly slept and Sam used all his dragonly magic to keep death at bay.

 

On the 10th day, Bucky opened his eyes and saw Steve’s face above him, smiling in relief. Bucky smiled back, believing that he’d woken up in the afterlife, finally reunited with his love.

 

Steve reassured him repeatedly that this was not the case and then they both laughed, and cried, and laughed again, for a long time. Sam listened to them from the biggest of his caves, feeling their joy filling his bones with a long forgotten emotion.

 

Later on, when all the tears had been shed and almost all the stories told, Sam knocked on the doors of the master chambers. Steve opened them, smiling brightly, and Sam’s breath caught at the sight of the radiance. Steve reached out his hand and led Sam to Bucky’s bedside.

 

At first, Bucky looked suspicious, even fearful. He’d obviously been told of Steve’s circumstance and what Sam’s true identity was, obscured by the humanoid form he’d chosen to wear. During his adventures he’d come across many a dragon and none of them had been kind.

 

But the moment Bucky looked into Sam’s warm eyes, he saw in them what Steve once saw, because for all their differences they’d always been the same. He fell in love with Sam, like he’d fallen in love with Steve all those years ago.

 

Sam had looked over Bucky’s wounds for nine days and he now knew Bucky’s body better than Bucky did, but it was not until now that he’d been given a glimpse into his soul and what he saw astounded and delighted him, for Bucky was bright as Steve was bright and their souls burned brighter in Sam’s eyes than any flame he’d ever been able to produce. Their love for each other was apparent, but in a flash, Sam recognized in them also their love for him.

 

Sam bent down to press the briefest of kisses to the corner of Bucky’s lips, fingers still entangled in Steve’s, who watched the proceedings with much joy and trepidation.

 

And so, all was well in the dragon’s hall. Bucky slowly recovered from his wounds, heartened by Sam and Steve’s combined love. Sam took a scale from his neck, pulled next to the place where the one on Steve’s chest had lain and this one, too, he fastened into a necklace that he gifted to Bucky. It healed the last of his wounds and he leapt to his feet, revived.

 

So they lived, and they loved, and made a home for themselves in the caves.

 

However, dark things were brewing in the village under the mountain.  The village head had made an alliance with the bandits from the forest, securing the help of the bandit king that now wore a burn mark on his face, twisting his grimace into something even more terrifying. Together, they sent tribute to the great Queen of the North, who believed their false tales of the dragon’s cruelty and offered them troops that numbered in hundreds. Soon, they were ready to strike.

 

The three in the mountain, the dragon, the shield and the gauntlet, were wholly unaware of the hail ready to rain upon them.

 

Luckily, there were others who were not so unaware.

 

Natasha, Sam’s very first protégé, had intercepted a message sent between the village and the Queen’s court and had undertaken the task of assembling all of the people Sam had helped over the decades. Together, they made an army of their own.

 

Natasha sneaked up the mountain to warn Sam of the oncoming storm. The dragon listened to her story in silence and cold fury, and when she finished, he transformed into his full glory and let out a fantastic roar the echoed the mountain and set fear into the hearts of those who opposed him and strength into the hearts of his friends.

 

The villagers and the bandits and the soldiers came upon an unusual army waiting for them on the slopes of the dragon’s mountain, numbering assassins, master marksmen and scientists that wielded gunpowder like a weapon. All signs pointed to it being a long and painful battle.

 

But in that moment, Sam burst from his cave in his full majestic form, his dark scales eating up light, until it seemed as if the very sun had bowed away under the fierce fury of the dragon, leaving the land cold and dark. Then, the dragon opened his great maw and let out a plume of fire so hot and blinding, it turned the mountain into the gates of hell itself.

 

Nestled high in the dragon’s scales, fierce and bright-eyed, were Steve and Bucky, shield and gauntlet in tow. They circled the battlefield once, before Sam let out another almighty roar that drove fear and shame into the hearts of the men, who laid down their weapons and their bodies, and would fight no more, no matter how much the village head and the bandit king tried to rally them.

 

They stood before the dragon, defeated, and Sam looked at them, each in turn, meeting their gazes and reading the soul underneath. One by one they dropped their faces, falling to their knees, begging for mercy from something that they did not wholly understand, but that frightened them more than any weapon in the world.

 

All who left the battlefield that day were changed men and women, given glimpse into the magic of the dragon, magic far older than anything living in human imagination. They saw and were changed for the better. For such is magic; when it is bad it amplifies all that is bad in the world, but when it is good, it grows goodness even in the darkest of hearts.

 

The dragon and his army returned to the mountain, where they feasted for 10 days and 10 nights, celebrating the life of the dragon and his two mates, before bidding them goodbye, leaving them in solitude to enjoy their love.

 

And so Sam the Dragon, who became Loved, Steve the Tribute, who became Loved, and Bucky, the Soldier, who became Loved, lived happily ever after, until the end of days.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on [tumblr](http://jjjat3am.tumblr.com/)


End file.
